


Hold On

by AnonymityisCrucial



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Sort of AU, nothing too bad i don't think, some injury description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymityisCrucial/pseuds/AnonymityisCrucial
Summary: During the fight with Toomes, Peter winds up with more injuries than he bargained for. This leads to a desperate Tony trying not only to save his Spider, but help him recover from the fallout after.





	1. Chapter 1

Dust flew as the building crumbled around him, crushing him underneath concrete and metal. His chest wouldn't expand and the weight that pinned him felt like it was slowly shifting every second he remained buried. The concrete kept pressing down and the creaking of metal told him that it was still unstable and could collapse further.

Peter couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, couldn't see. The dust was floating everywhere as water trickled down, creating rivers and puddles on the rubble-strewn ground. A choked sob made it's way out of his throat. When he tried to move, a sharp pain ran through his abdomen, causing the teen to let out a screech of agony before collapsing, limp, back to where he was. Another sob worked it's way from his throat that ended in a violent coughing fit that only caused his whole being to tremble in pure agony. Spitting, Peter saw the red and knew what it meant. Throat dry from dust and raw from coughing, he tried to call for help, but all that came out was a miserable croaking sound.

Looking at a puddle in front of him, where his mask lay, half submerged, he saw half of his face reflecting back, the mask forming the other. He stared at it, taking in his disheveled appearance and red tinged lips from blood. A surge of anger flooded Peter's body as he shouted angrily at the sky, only to once again have it end in a coughing fit. Groaning in pain, Peter felt tears mix with the dirt and blood on his face, no longer clear when they dripped from his skin into a puddle below.

"Please," he sobbed softly. "Anybody? Help!" Peter felt so tired, but he knew that he couldn't sleep. No, the Vulture was still out there and he needed to get out, so he braced himself and with a war cry, he lifted. Dust and water rained down on him as both he and his body screamed in pain and determination. The concrete shifted and the metal creaked and groaned, but he was making progress. With one more violent shout, Peter flung the rubble aside and staggered away, ignoring the pain pulsating through every inch of his body.

He nearly cried in relief when he saw the Vulture still there, perched up on something, watching the sky for what Peter believed to be the plane. Suddenly, Peter heard the wing engines firing up and saw the man ready himself to fly, so Peter limped faster than he had ever before and shot a line, catching the man right as he took off. Peter was caught off guard by the force as to which the man took off with, crying out as he felt his shoulder pull from it's socket. Before he could plummet, Peter latched onto the web with his other hand and dangled precariously, one arm limp and flying, body in agony. Peter ignored it all, he had to. So instead of leaving it to the heroes, which he was hardly, he gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life.

Peter nearly fell off of that plane too many times. The Vulture had slashed and grabbed at him, trying to catch him and throw him away, but Peter was persistent and held on. He refused to be discarded like someone's trash, not again. That's why Peter stayed on the plane, fighting for his life, and the lives of the people living in the city below. He steered the plane to a deserted place and it crashed. He didn't remember much from the point of impact to when he found himself standing up, ears ringing, and the feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

He figured he'd been thrown from the plane, possibly rolling some because there was sand in places he didn't need it to be, and he felt even worse than before. Toomes was not a man to give up though, not even after crashing on the same plane Peter had been on. So while the teen staggered to his feet, holding his arm, face pinched with pain, panting as if breathing was a strenuous activity, Toomes got himself up and launched himself at the Spider-twerp that messed up his whole plan.

Peter barely noticed Toomes before he hit the sand again, letting out a grunt. The man did not give up. Peter struggled to his feet, but was snatched up by Toomes and flung into the air. He felt gravity take hold of him and suddenly a metal foot was shoving him towards the ground faster. He hit hard, the breath leaving his body, and screaming with the fire that coursed through him when Toomes dug the three talons into his already damaged chest and stomach. He felt them go into his flesh, digging in with ease. There was no word to describe what he felt like. The pain was so intense, white spots danced in his vision, threatening to make him black out. It felt like every single nerve in his body was being burned with acid, slowly melting away to mush. Oh how Peter wished he could just melt away from everything.

The man flew up and slammed him down, tossing him away. Peter barely had any strength to roll himself over, let alone stand again. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth and was streaming from his nose and a gash on his forehead. The world was blurry and everything looked like it was spinning, so when he heard the tell-tale metallic shink of the Vulture's wings close to his head, he barely moved it enough to not be impaled. The sharp feather scratched his cheek and imbedded itself into his hood. Toomes lifted him off the beach and Peter could barely suck any air in. His body hung from the wing, limp and moving only with the movement of Toomes. His head lolled and Peter felt himself slipping from consciousness when suddenly he was dropped harshly back onto the hard sand with a grunt.

He rolled over and saw that Toomes spotted a crate of alien tech, but didn't seem to notice that his own suit was about to blow. Peter tried calling to him, pushing aside the pain once again, determined to save the man who was ready to kill him moments before. He spun himself around and tried to shoot out a web at the man, dragging himself up onto his feet. From there he hobbled closer, trying to call the man's name, but Toomes only looked at the teen before the suit burst in a fiery explosion. Peter screamed the man's name, limping faster towards the now burning remains of the suit. Coughing, Peter entered the flames, desperately searching for the man. He didn't care that lifting the burning metal Toomes was under burned his hands severely, he just cared about getting the man out, alive, and home to his family, no matter how bad of a man he was. Peter owed Liz that much.

He carried the man out, despite his body's protests. Without any grace, he dropped the man on a safe portion of the beach, away from any of the carnage, and collapsed at the man's side himself, struggling to get a single breath in. Every time his ribs moved, he could feel them shifting in ways they shouldn't. Every time he moved in the slightest, he could feel every bump, bruise, scrape, cut, jab, and break on his body. Everything hurt. Looking over to the man he just saved, he saw that Toomes was unconscious and slightly burned, but overall uninjured and appeared fine. Swallowing the lump in his throat and pushing back the pain, he dragged the man towards some crates, pulling all the undamaged cargo he could find into a pile and started using his last spare cartridge of web fluid to web everything together.

Toomes looked at him strangely and Peter thought that he saw worry alongside guilt in the man's eyes. The guilt he could understand, but the worry, which appeared to be directed at Peter specifically, must have been a trick of the teen's mind. He definitely had a concussion. He gave a weak smile to the man as he staggered, falling a few times, to find something to write on and write with. Upon finding a slightly burnt piece of paper and a very damaged, but still usable, pen, he wrote out a little note, sticking it on the pile with Toomes. Saluting the man, he used what little web fluid he had left to swing away, only managing to make it atop the Cyclone.

There he sat, passed out, until he woke up supposedly hours later. He rolled his head to look at the wreckage, only to see flashlights shining around. He was pretty sure it was Happy and his crew, but he had no idea, he was just so tired and wanted to sleep. He knew he couldn't stay where he was though, he didn't have a mask. With that thought, Peter forced his body to move and away he thwipped.

He landed harshly on a rooftop a few blocks from his home and couldn't get back up. Coughing violently, blood spraying from his lips and he finally looked down at his stomach, where he felt the sharp twinge of pain when he was buried. There was a hole torn in his suit, but he couldn't really see his skin until he tried lifting the sweatshirt up. He hissed in agony as the fabric pulled away from the wound, having stuck to it as it tried healing.

There was a hole in his side, close to where he thinks his spleen might be, but he isn't quite sure. His mind's a bit foggy and a wave of nausea overtook him upon seeing the inflamed wound, and then noting that something had definitely run him straight through because there was another hole on his back, at least from what he felt. He had been standing, but collapsed to his knees before rolling onto his back upon discovery. The wound had been, and still was, bleeding somewhat profusely, which caused Peter to start to freak out even more.

He knew that his spleen was essentially a giant sack of blood, and knowing this and how much the wound was bleeding, it probably got nicked. Something told him there it wasn't the only organ to sustain damage as his whole abdomen felt weird. That and he kept coughing up blood, which meant either damaged throat, lungs, or internal bleeding, and Peter was willing to bet on all three. He felt like someone tossed him in a trash compactor and squashed him like a bug. His body was trembling and Peter could feel blood starting to pool around his injury. Looking up to the sky, Peter felt tears trailing down his face.

Suddenly, everything went numb and his mind didn't feel like someone shoved cotton balls into it anymore. He gave a clipped laugh and he thought about everything. He thought about how he had just saved people's lives, even if they would never know. He thought about how his date's father tried to kill him, but how Peter ended up saving him in the end. He thought about Ned and Aunt May and all the people who were probably wondering where he was. That's when it hit him and his nostalgic smile fell from his face.

"I'm going to die," Peter whispered to himself, breaking out into a harsh coughing fit before collapsing back and wheezing, certain that now there was a punctured lung to add to his injuries. He couldn't breath and was starting to freak out. "I'm-I'm going to d-die here. A-alone." Peter felt fatter tears start to fall more rapidly as he started sobbing, stopping to groan in pain, before starting to cry again. He tried to hold it in, but he couldn't, all he could do was ride it out and lay still, body numbing the more time passed. In fact, everything started to feel a lot farther away.

"I never got to say goodbye," Peter mumbled as the world blinked out of focus and he felt so very tired. "I never got to say goodbye." It came out slurred as the world became muffled and started growing dark. He felt like he was floating, drifting back and forth between two places. Eyelids heavy and drooping, Peter thought that he heard the sound of thrusters in the distance, but shrugged it off. Sleep sounded so good right now. Peter closed his eyes.

And drifted away.


	2. Chapter 2

"Tony, we have a problem."

Tony was in the middle of a meeting when his phone started to ring. He looked at it and, seeing as it was Happy, he ignored it and continued on. This kept going for three more times before Tony answered on the fifth time Happy called. He stepped out and his face immediately became stoic, jaw clenching.

"What do you mean the jet went down.

"I mean the jet was heading to the compound, but then it burst into flames and headed towards the city."

"The city?! Did it crash?"

"Yeah, but somehow it turned away from the city and crashed on a beach, thankfully uninhabited at this time of night. It didn't turn on it's own though. I'm pretty sure one of the wings was pulled to steer it."

"What makes you say that?"

"The way it's bent and the fact that there is a stack of crates, as well as Adrian Toomes, all tied up with webbing," Happy said, staring at the note left for whoever found it. He was freaking out internally about the kid, trying to tell himself the teen was perfectly alright. "Tony?"

"I'm on my way," Tony said, hanging up abruptly and taking off. He called a suit and allowed it to assemble around him, not caring if he just left a meeting. He needed to get to that beach as soon as possible. Tony shot off at the fastest speed possible and made it to the beach in record time, scanning it for the teen. He came up empty so he started flying around the city, sticking to a small radius before branching out farther. He was close to stopping to gathering some help to look for the kid when he saw a familiar red and blue splotch on a rooftop not far from Peter's place.

"Oh shit," Tony exclaimed, rocketing down towards the rooftop and sprinted to the kid as soon as he touched down. Skidding to a stop on his knees, he reached out to the form that remained unmoving. Tony felt his heart leap to his throat as he placed a finger on the barely moving chest and told FRIDAY to read vitals.

"Mr. Parker's pulse and respiratory rate are extremely low and he is in hypovolemic shock from loss of blood. Multiple contusions and lacerations are detected, as well as internal bleeding. His spleen has suffered from a laceration and is causing him to bleed out. Mr. Parker also has a Grade 3 concussion and multiple broken ribs, one of which has punctured his right lung."

"Shit, shit, how did I, oh I fucked up. I screwed the pooch hard on this one FRIDAY. I took the suit thinking it would teach him a lesson, but I should have known he wouldn't stay put," Tony shouted, berating himself as he stared at the unconscious form. "Shit, FRIDAY, can I move him? Can I fly him to the tower or compound for medical treatment without further injury," Tony asked his AI, freaking out on the inside and out.

"It is not recommended that he should be moved at all in this state, but without medical attention in the next half hour, Mr. Parker will die." Tony's heart stopped and he blinked rapidly, looking at the kid who was dying before him.

"Fucking- FRIDAY, alert Dr. Wallace that we have someone arriving in critical that needs immediate surgery and medical aid," Tony said, gently picking the kid up in his arms, ignoring his face which was screwed up in pain, even on the verge of death. A soft groan escaped the teen's lips and Tony took off as fast as he could without fear of injuring the boy he carried in his arms anymore. He wasn't sure if it was the Iron Man suit that made him stronger, but Peter felt extremely light, and that was worrying Tony even more.

Never had be been happier to see Dr. Wallace than when he saw the man in full surgical gear waiting for the pair with a stretcher, ready to immediately begin work. Tony watched the man and some other trusted SHIELD medical staff rush off into the theater to begin their job of saving a boy's life. God, he was only fifteen. Tony stepped out of the suit and sent it to get cleaned of blood. The suit wandered off on it's own to do so, leaving Tony sitting on a couch in the "waiting room", staring at a turned-off TV, thoughts running a million miles an hour. He didn't notice Happy wander in and stand in front of him until the man waved a hand in front of his face.

"Did you find the kid? Is he okay? Please tell me he isn't dead," Happy pleaded, showing his fear for the kid for the first time Tony's seen. The billionaire blinked up at the man, still in shock from finding the kid balancing on a fine wire between life and death. The man knew Peter had amazing balance, but everyone falls at some point. All Tony could do was shake his head.

"He's not dead, oh thank god," Happy sighed, putting a hand on his chest, immensely relieved, but the feeling was short lived when he saw how haunted Tony looked before the man buried his face in his hands with a shaky sigh. "What happened Tony?"

"I don't know," was all Tony could make himself say and the two men remained silent for a while, Happy taking the opportunity to sit in a chair next to Tony.

"He'll be okay though. The kid bounces back in a day from blows that would take even Captain Rogers a week to recover from. He'll be okay," Happy said, trying to convince both himself and Tony of this fact.

"He was going to die. When I got there, he was dying. He's still probably dying. I could have, I should have been here. I should have listened to the kid. God, why didn't I just listen to the kid and keep an eye on Toomes. I shouldn't have taken the suit. Maybe, just maybe, it would have helped protect him more than that shitty costume he was wearing."

"Boss, you can't know that. You took the suit away because the kid deserved for it to be taken away. He disobeyed orders to stay out of it and nearly got himself, and a lot of others, killed. You were in the right to do so."

"I should have been here though! I still should have been here, protecting the plane. I knew there was valuable stuff on there, I was just, Jesus I'm so stupid," Tony said angrily, balling his hands into fists, clenching his hair between his fingers. Happy didn't know how to respond so the room was bathed in silence once again.

They sat like that for a while. Neither man moved, neither spoke, neither made any move to do anything that would disturb the tense peace of the moment. At least, it wasn't disturbed until the elevator dinged and the sound of crutches followed causing both men to look towards the newcomer.

"Hey guys, what happened? Why are we on the medical floor? Tony, are you okay? What happened," Rhodey asked as he wandered in, becoming more and more concerned the more time passed without an answer from the billionaire. Happy stared at him with sadness and worry, and Tony looked like someone had died. The man's face was emotionless, but his eyes shone with grief and guilt. "Tony, what happened?"

"It's all my fault."

"What's all your fault? I came because I saw a jet go down in a fiery ball of flames and thought you might have an idea as to what happened. So, are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to ask Happy?"

"The kid, it wasn't me, it was the kid."

"Kid, what kid? Oh Jesus Tony, do you have a kid," Rhodey asked, face morphing into one of shock and both seated men looked at each other before shaking their heads.

"No, no I don't, thank god for that. The kid, the Spiderling."

"I knew he was a kid. Wait, what the hell were you doing, bringing a kid into a war?!"

"I was thinking that he was our best bet to contain Steve, Barnes, and the others without anyone getting hurt," Tony said, wincing as he looked at Rhodey's braces. The man hobbled his way over to sit on the couch beside his friend, and sighed.

"Look, I get that you were trying to bring them in peacefully, but that doesn't justify bringing a kid into battle. How old is he Tony? How old of a kid? Please tell me that he's at least finished high school."

"He's fifteen, fourteen at the time of the airport mishap." Rhodey ran a hand over his face.

"What the- Tony! A fourteen year old?! He fought Captain frickin' America! You pitted him against a trained soldier and a trained assassin! He was smacked out of the sky onto the tarmac by that giant dude! How hurt was he after Tony? Tell me the truth, what happened to him after that?"

"He was fine, somehow. He told me he was sore, but he was already healing and I believed him. He didn't even look like he was in pain at all."

"Did you threaten him?"

"What?!"

"Did you threaten him to join you?"

"What? No, no I-I didn't," Tony stammered and Rhodey gave a dry laugh, running a hand over his head.

"I can't believe you right now. I've helped you through a lot, stood by you for a lot of crazy shit, but threatening a child to join a war is just- I can't believe you right now."

"The kid wanted to be there! He was bouncing with excitement. Sure he got hurt, but he took out the trained soldier and the trained assassin, at least for a while, and even gave Cap a run for his money. The kid could hold his own. Hell he was the reason we could take down Giant Man."

"I don't disagree that he didn't do a good job, it's just, he's a child Tony."

"He was out fighting muggers in back alleys before I found him. If I didn't find him, he might have ended up dead," Tony said before letting out a sigh and running a shaking hand through his hair. "Though he might still end up dead because of me."

"What are you talking about Tony?"

"There was this guy, Adrian Toomes, or The Vulture as he called himself. He was stealing alien tech and combining it with normal human technology to create weapons. The kid decided to take him on. He destroyed a ferry, nearly killed a bunch of people including himself."

"The Staton Island Ferry thing? That was him?"

"Yep," Tony replied, popping the P before growing solemn again. "I was so mad at him for not listening when I told him to stay away from the mess the first time he nearly got himself killed by Toomes."

"Wait what?"

"The man dropped him in a lake, nearly drowned him. Luckily he was wearing the suit I made him so I knew he was in trouble and could get him out of it. I was so mad at him for refusing to listen to me and stay low to the ground, help the little guy like he claimed he wanted to. I took the suit back. The protective suit I made him to help him be less hurt by threats he faced. Load of good that did him. I should have known the kid would race off again, with or without the fancy suit."

"Tony-"

"He wasn't wearing the suit tonight, when he fought a super villain, on an airplane, which he crashed landed. He was nearly killed again. I found him bleeding out on a rooftop, barely breathing. FRIDAY told me that if I didn't get him medical care within thirty minutes of me finding him that he would die. FRIDAY doesn't lie. It was like a building was dropped on the kid he was so beat up. He could die, and it'd be my fault."

"Tony, listen to me, it is not your fault. It's not the kid's fault either. It's that Vulture guy's fault okay? He was the one who started this and he was the one who hurt the kid, not you. None of this is your fault."

"I took the suit."

"Suit or no suit, you said it yourself, he would have gone after the man."

"Yeah, but the suit could have protected him more than his shitty homemade one."

"Maybe, but the kid was alive when you found him right?"

"Yeah, but barely."

"But he was alive. You also said the kid heals fast." Tony nodded, confused as to where this was going. Rhodey looked him dead in the eyes.

"The kid will be fine Tony, you have to trust me. He might have been barely holding on when you found him, but with that probably enhanced healing factor he has, plus the medical care he's getting now, he's probably going to be just fine."

"I hope you're right. I don't know what I'd tell the kid's aunt," Tony muttered and Rhodes chose not to ask about the whole family situation. That'd be discussed at a later date, if at all. The two friends sat in silence while Happy sat back, hoping that the Colonel was right, praying that he was. They sat like that for hours past the sun rise. After what felt like years, but was really only eight or so hours from when Tony arrived with Peter, Dr. Wallace walked out, pulling off his face mask and staring at the group that gathered with a stoic expression. Everyone expected the worst, and each nearly cried in relief when the doctor finally spoke.

"He's alive."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was moving before the doctor could even think to react. As soon as the billionaire heard the word that Peter was alive, he rushed the doctor and demanded to see him.

"Hold on there Mr. Stark sir, he's alive, but in critical condition."

"I know, he was in critical the moment I found him, and probably before then. I want to see him Dr. Wallace. Now." The doctor was unfazed by the glare the tech genius gave, which caused Tony to falter slightly. He was used to people sensing his tone and moving aside, or at least looking a bit flighty. This man did neither and returned his gaze.

"I wouldn't recommend it. Even with his enhanced healing factor, it will take him days, if not weeks, to even be able to have enough strength to stand, let alone walk. What that means is he is extremely injured, and it, again, is not advised for you to be in their with him."

"You listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me Mr. Stark. You asked me to take care of this boy and that's what I intend to do, until he is fully, or at least mostly, recovered. I will not allow you, any of you, in to see him until he is more stable. His immune system has been compromised as a result of the severity of his injuries, meaning that if you go in, unsterilized, you are bringing in a host of unknown contaminants that could potentially cause infection and sickness, which would lead to death. I'm not saying an infection or illness might, I'm saying it will. His body is working it's hardest to heal itself, meaning that it is leaving very little on the defense front. If an infection were to set it, it is within the realm of possibility that that infection enters his bloodstream and in turn travels to his organs and brain, shutting them down. I cannot, for the health of my patient, allow you in to see him Mr. Stark. That's final," Dr. Wallace said, crossing his arms and staring down Tony, who was still trying to glare at him. The billionaire finally deflated, giving up, and fell back onto the couch, running a hand over his face.

"What happened?"

"I was going to ask you that. He's barely holding on as it is. We lost him three times on the table Mr. Stark. It's a miracle he's still alive at all." Tony clenched his jaw and fist and Rhodey put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. Happy just leaned back, a hand going through his hair.

"What's the extent of the injuries?" Dr. Wallace's face became emotionless, though his eyes shone with sadness.

"It's not good. First off, he suffered from a Grade 3 concussion, which is the most severe. I'm not able to tell if there will be any sort of brain trauma or damage, at least until he wakes up."

"Shit," Rhodey muttered and looked at Tony, who looked as if he aged years in a few seconds.

"Brain damage," the man repeated softly, not wanting to believe it. Dr. Wallace nodded stiffly.

"It's possible there there is no damage, but there will be some amnesia, though I'm not sure what parts of time will be missing for him, though it will probably be whatever caused the concussion in the first place."

"That's not the worst is it…"

"I'm afraid not, that's actually some of the better news, if any. He has multiple lacerations and contusions all over his body, including quite a few that required stitches. They should all heal up with minor scarring, some already having healed during the time he's been unconscious. He dislocated his shoulder, and managed to fracture his clavicle and scapula, which made it difficult to put back into place. He'll need to wear a sling for several weeks until it fully heals. His left tibia and fibula were crushed, in pieces, so we needed to place a metal rod to stabilize it and the bone fragments while it heals. Until then, he's going to be wearing a cast."

"That's not even close to the end is it?"

"Once again, you are correct Mr. Stark. From his injuries, it appears as though he was crushed underneath something of immense weight. Most all of his ribs were either cracked, fractured, or broken. A bone fragment from on of the broken ribs managed to pierce his lung, causing a pneumothorax, or collapsed lung, to occur as a result. We were able to repair the broken ribs the best we could, stabilizing his chest wall, and repairing the tear in the lung. We have his chest wrapped but as soon as the breaks are mended to the point where they aren't going to collapse again, we will remove the wrappings, but only because of the possibility of pneumonia and other illnesses to develop when the chest can't fully expand."

Tony held his head in his hands, wanting the list of injuries to end, but knowing there was still more to be told. Rhodey was shaking his own head, rubbing Tony's back and Happy, well, he looked like he was ready to throw-up. Dr. Wallace took note of all of their reactions and knew that what he had to tell next was not going to be fun at all.

"The boy also had four major puncture wounds, three in a sort of Y pattern, and one through his side, which nicked his spleen. The three in a Y went deep, but not deep enough to cause too much damage. It's the sheer size of the wounds that worries me, and they are going to scar, even with his healing and the best I could possibly do. It's like talons had picked him up off the ground, the way there's an initial sight of entry, and then it seemed like the wounds were pulled open more the originally. There was a slight infection, but we managed to get him on some antibiotics to counter it, so it's already on it's way out.

The wound in his side is another matter altogether. Something, perhaps rebar, pierced through his side, nicked his spleen, and exited out the back. I can't tell for sure what made the wound, but whatever it was was not clean in any sense. There were fragments of rusted metal within the wounds, as well as other debris. It appeared as though his body tried to heal around it, but it only succeeded in causing more damage. We had to physically cut out some of the debris from the healing tissue in order for it to not cause more complications later on. In doing so, we increased the amount of time that it will take for the wound to heal, but it insured that it will heal with hopefully very few complications. I say few instead of none because the wound, probably because it was created by something that was filthy and possibly disease ridden, caused an infection to take hold. This infection had already entered his bloodstream, but thankfully we caught it in time and are slowly forcing it to retreat through an intense regimen of antibiotics."

"Please tell me that's it."

"I'm sorry, but there's a couple last things. We had to remove the spleen, due to the damage, and that may cause problems later on in life, but it's doubtful it will do anything. What I was most concerned about besides the puncture wound to the side was the internal bleeding. With crush injuries, if they're to the abdomen or chest, there is usually some sort of internal hemorrhaging. Unfortunately, your boy was one of those cases. There was severe bleeding within his abdomen, and his belly filled with blood. Most of the blood within him, and that nearly caused him to bleed out, was due to the injured spleen. Not all of it though. Multiple other organs were affected and the damage caused could have later consequences, but as long as he stays on the meds we prescribed, and he takes it easy for several months to allow himself to fully heal, there shouldn't be any cause to worry. We did have to remove his appendix, which doesn't affect a person too much, but also a kidney due to damage. The loss of a kidney, while not life-threatening, is definitely something to keep an eye on in the future."

"Jesus Christ…"

"I said a couple things, but physically, I believe I went over pretty much everything that I found. I did notice that he was underweight and slightly malnourished as well as dehydrated, so we started him on some fluids as well, and a few drips to give his body the nutrients needed to help it repair itself. Do you know if he's eating enough? His metabolism appears to be higher than a normal, even for a kid his age. In fact, it's on par with Captain Rogers'. In order to keep his strength up, and healing rate as high as possible, he needs to up his intake of food in general. Same goes for what he drinks, make sure that it's more than he has been. From the looks of it, the lack of food and water are also compromising his ability to heal, and it's been going on for a while now."

"The kid's not getting enough to eat? That little, why didn't he tell me?"

"I'm not sure Tony, but I'm sure there was some reason behind it. Maybe he didn't notice?"

"Bullshit, I'm sure he knows. I bet he thought that he'd be bothering me if he told me and decided not to. Dammit, why can't the kid understand that he isn't a burden?"

"That's physically Mr. Stark," Dr. Wallace said, drawing the two men from their conversation. "He should recover physically, if everything goes perfectly and the antibiotics do their job of clearing out the infections. Mentally, however, I believe is another story."

"What do you mean? Like the brain damage you mentioned before," Tony asked, knowing that it was more than that, and the billionaire did not want it to be. The kid was fifteen, he shouldn't have to deal with the shit that comes along with everything. He should be playing video games and watching movies and hanging out with friends, not fighting super villains and nearly dying multiple times in a short span of time.

"Possibly, but I'm talking more so about things that come along with injuries as severe as his, from a trauma that was probably severe as well."

"Like PTSD?"

"Yes, and possibly depression and anxiety as well. There are other possible illnesses that can be associated with trauma and injury, but I'm no psychologist or psychiatrist, so I wouldn't be able to tell you all of them for sure. Sadly, there is no doubt in my mind that he will suffer from PTSD, even if it's mild, it'll be there. No one can go through a trauma like he must have and come out mentally unscarred. You'll need to be there for him Mr. Stark. Not just to help him through his physical injuries, but help him mentally and emotionally as well. I know you don't really do emotion, but for the sake of the kid, you need to," Dr. Wallace said forcefully, causing Tony to run a hand through his hair and feel his heart pound in his chest.

"When will I be able to see him?"

"I can't let you go in to see him, but I can let you see him through the window. I have to warn you, it isn't pretty. He has multiple IV lines running from his body as well as a tube down his throat, connected to a respirator, that's helping him breathe without putting too much strain on his healing lung and ribs."

"I don't care, I want to see him, I need to see that he's still alive." Dr. Wallace nodded softly before leading Tony, Happy, and Rhodey to outside the room Peter was recovering in. Tony felt tears well up in his eyes, but he blinked them away before they could fall. The lump in his throat didn't go away though, it only increased in size the longer he watched the kid's chest rise and fall because of a machine.

Peter had a bandage wrapped around his head and his leg was elevated above the sheets. His arm was basically bound to him to prevent movement, and he was so pale that he almost matched the white sheets that covered him. His cheeks were rosy from a slight fever due to his body trying to fight off the infection, something that Dr. Wallace assured them was perfectly natural. Seeing all of the wires and tubes protruding from the teen's body made Tony nauseous. The man turned away and marched stiffly back to the waiting area, sitting down on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, taking in and letting out shaking breaths. He didn't even look up when he heard the click of Rhodey's crutches/braces against the floor, nor did he move when he felt the man sit next to him.

"Tony, listen to me, this isn't your fault."

"But it is Rhodey. If I'd been here, if I'd taken care of the problem when it was first brought up, maybe the kid would be okay."

"Maybe you wouldn't be."

"But the kid would be okay."

"Tony-"

"It should have been me Rhodey," Tony said, looking at his best friend, tears trailing down his face. Rhodey was taken aback. He had seen Tony cry, sure, and break down, but he'd never seen the man this hurt or in this much emotional pain over someone else. He'd seen the man look guilty and hurt, but never had he cried over it, at least, not in front of the Colonel.

"Tony, you don't have super powers."

"I have a suit."

"Yes, but, the only reason the kid's alive is thanks to his super healing that kept trying to patch him up while he was off doing God knows what. If it was you, you'd be dead. Think Tony, what if it was the kid who found you lying on a rooftop, bleeding out? What do you think he would do, what do you think would happen to him, if you were lying in there, dead, and he was unharmed? What would the kid think? You have to imagine Tony. He'd probably be sitting here, like you, but more broken, more fragile, more in pain than you right now because right now, he's alive. You probably wouldn't be, even with your suit. Sure, it's possible you'd have been fine, and I know the kid's a dumbass amateur, but if you happened to get badly injured taking down someone the kid brought to your attention, how would he feel?"

"The kid would probably blame himself for me getting hurt and then go and do something stupid."

"Exactly. He'd probably still end up hurt, or regretting doing whatever he'd end up doing while he was hurting emotionally. For one second, one second Tony, I want you to think real long and hard about if you were the one in there and the kid was out here." Tony stared at Rhodey before burying his face in his hands with a groan.

"You're right."

"What was that? Did Tony Stark actually admit someone else was right?"

"Don't make me regret saying it. You are right though Rhodey, if it was me in there, there wouldn't be anyone here to stop the kid from doing something idiotic. I know he's alive, and that he will live. He's injured and scarred, but he can heal and learn to live. If it was me in there and he decided to let his emotions rule, he might not be around anymore."

"I'm glad that you can see how you wanting to take his place wouldn't really work all that well. Most scenarios end up with him injured or worse. It's not your fault Tony, you did everything you could think of to keep the kid from getting hurt. He saved lives. Sure he got hurt, but he'll live. If he hadn't been there and that Vulture guy got the weapons, or if the plane crashed into the city, a lot more people could have been killed. He saved people Tony, and I'm pretty sure that'll be something he'll say if you bring up him being hurt in the process."

"Yeah."

"Kid's smart from what I've seen and heard, but he also has a lot of emotion and bottled up feelings it seems. He has a big heart; he's a good kid Tony," Rhodey said and Tony gave a short laugh.

"Yeah, I know."

"You should try to be more like him."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey kid."

Tony was finally allowed into Peter's room about five days after he had brought him in. Most of the IVs had been taken out, and the tube down his throat had been replaced by a nasal cannula since his lung had healed enough to expand on it's own. There was a terrifying moment when, for a few seconds, Peter's chest didn't rise and fall when they took the tube out. Tony's heart nearly stopped, but then Peter took a shallow, shaky breath on his own, and Tony gave a sigh of relief. He seemed to be healing somewhat, the cuts having healed, with only faint scars showing that there had been anything there. The larger injuries were slowly healing, but they were healing, which was something that everyone was grateful for. The only problem was that Peter hadn't woken up yet.

Dr. Wallace assured Tony that it was normal for a person who went through trauma like Peter, and who had technically died three times, to not wake up. If he remained in a coma for over a week, then it would be a cause for some worry. Anything past two weeks was not right, and tests would need to be run. So now, at five days, it was still considered normal-ish.

"You can't just sleep away problems you know," Tony chided softly to the unconscious form. He was sitting beside Peter's bed, watching his chest rise and fall, the heart monitor beeping softly, the rhythm faster than a normal human's, but normal for Peter.

"I told May that we were on an extended trip and that you didn't have any cell service, which is why you weren't responding to her. I think she bought it. I didn't tell her how long the "trip" was, so you have time to heal enough for people to not ask questions."

Peter just breathed in response, the heart monitor giving Tony comfort in the fact that he was, in fact, still alive. Tony swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry that this happened kid. I should have been there for you." No response. "You don't deserve this kid. Hell, I don't deserve you. You're the best person I know, and the stupidest, most self-sacrificing person I've ever met, and I have met a lot of heroes. You should have been at Homecoming with that girl, Liz was it? You should have been dancing horribly and listening to terrible pop songs and having the time of your life, not crashing a plane and nearly getting yourself killed. You should be worrying about school and friends and homework and girls, not putting on a onsie and fighting crime. You should be a kid." Tony sighed and sat back before his eyes snapped open when he heard the heart monitor break it's constant rhythm.

"Peter? Can you hear me? I think I've read that people in comas can hear when someone's talking to them. Can you?" Another blip on the monitor and Tony could have sworn that he saw Peter's finger twitch. "Peter?"

Tony nearly flipped out when Peter's head moved and the boy groaned, his heart rate spiking slightly as he started waking up. Tony pressed a button that would call Dr. Wallace and grabbed Peter's hand without actually thinking about it.

"Peter, kid, you there?" Peter's eyes blinked open slightly, but remained shut as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Bright," was all he croaked, coughing slightly, and immediately Tony had FRIDAY dim the lights. The teen let out a soft sigh and turned to look at Tony, confused. "Wha' 'appen'd," he rasped, coughing again before groaning in pain.

"You nearly got yourself killed taking on the Vulture is what happened," Tony said, a bit too loud judging from the wince that Peter gave. "Sorry kid," he tried softer.

" 's okay. Hurts," the teen muttered, wincing. Tony looked at him with apologies on his tongue.

"Sorry kiddo, you're already getting the max amount of the strongest pain meds available without you ODing. Your injuries, paired with your healing, means pain is going to be your friend for a little while. Just be glad you had those meds, because if you're hurting now, you'd sure be hurting without them," Tony said with a whistle. He watched as Peter shifted slightly, grunting, and then Tony saw him freeze when he could move his arm, and saw his leg hanging from the air.

"Mr. Stark? What exactly, I mean, what…" Tony saw Peter's eyes widen as he looked around frantically, tugging at the sling that held his healing arm in place before Tony literally leapt on him to hold him still. Granted, Peter had super strength, but he was hopped up on meds and had been asleep for all of five days, so Tony was able to somewhat hold the kid down, awkwardly leaning over the bed slightly.

"Kid, Peter, Pete, hey, calm down kid, calm down, you're fine, you're alive, everything's okay." Peter stopped moving and just stared at Tony like he grew a second head.

"Okay?" The question came out as a squeak. "I'm pretty sure this is not okay Mr. Stark! What happened? What happened to me? How bad is it?"

"Well kid, I ain't going to lie to you, but it isn't pretty."

"Tell me."

"Are you sure you-"

"Tell. Me," Peter demanded and Tony was taken aback. All he could do was stare at the kid for a few moments in shock when the door opened to reveal Dr. Wallace.

"Ah, Peter! I'm so glad to see you're awake."

"What's wrong with me?" Dr. Wallace blinked a few times at the suddenness of the question before looking at Tony, who gave him a 'go for it, I dunno' look. So Dr. Wallace relayed all of Peter's injuries to the teen, whose pale face turned even whiter at every new surprise.

"So I have one kidney, and no spleen?"

"That is correct."

"And I can't really move for a couple weeks."

"Right again."

"And you know who I am."

"I figured your name is Peter given the amount of times Tony here has called you such. I don't know anything more, so no worries."

"Great," Peter said, leaning back against the pillows, the bed raised up so he could be in a partially seated position.

"Gr-great? Kid, what?"

"What am I supposed to tell my aunt? What about Ned? MJ? Anyone? You said we were on a trip for the internship! I still have school Mr. Stark. I can't miss anymore homework. I'm still trying to catch up from Germany, and that was months ago!"

"What do you mean trying to catch up? We were there for, like, a day?"

"Yeah, but then the trip to and from was at least another day, plus the jet lag was not fun so I was a little out of it for a while, and the concussion I had, well, it was also not fun, and then dealing with every class I was in somehow having a billion assignments assigned during this time I was not properly functioning and yeah, I'm still a little behind."

"Concussion? Kid, we need to talk, seriously. Why, why didn't I know he had a concussion, FRIDAY?"

"He asked me not to tell you sir."

"And you listened," Tony asked, feeling slightly betrayed. He was certain if the AI was a real person, she would have shrugged.

"Peter is very convincing when he wishes to be." Tony groaned and Peter chuckled sheepishly as Dr. Wallace rolled his eyes.

"I'll leave you be to talk. If you need anything Peter, just press that button there or alert FRIDAY. I'm here if needed."

"Thanks Doc," Peter said cheery, but as soon as the man left the room, he deflated with a groan, holding his arm to his chest to try to alleviate some pain.

"Alright kid, story time. First, forgetting the now, let's start with how you neglected to tell me of a concussion, as well as any other injuries you sustained during the scuffle at the airport, hmm," Tony said, raising an eyebrow at the kid and glaring at him. Peter shifted nervously before hissing as a wave of pain shot through his body from his shoulder area.

"Well Captain America sort of hit me in the face with his shield before dropping an airport terminal on me, which was really heavy by the way, like, really heavy," Peter exclaimed, straining the really. He nearly blurted out the part about it not being as heavy as the building though. Tony didn't need to know about that or he'd be in even bigger trouble from the billionaire. So Peter winced, shuddering at the thought of the building being dropped on him, and moved on.

"I'm going to have some words with Rogers next time I hear from him," Tony muttered, but somewhat regretting his harsh tone when the kid flinched.

"Don't blame him, he was just defending himself. I had a black eye for a couple days afterwards, but otherwise I was fine, -ish."

"What else kid because I know there's something else," Tony said, staring the kid down until he finally burst and talked.

"Okay! Okay, fine, jeez...I probably had a little concussion from that, and some bruised ribs from Falcon's drone thing dropping me out of a window, but then I got swatted down into some crates or something by that giant guy and probably, sort of, kind of, definitely cracked some more ribs and made the concussion worse," Peter ended, his voice pitching upwards and his volume getting softer as he shrunk back, bracing himself for the yelling fit that he knew was coming.

"Can't you take care of yourself?! For one day kid, that's all I ask. One day, zero injury. Is that it?"

"What?"

"Are cracked ribs and a somewhat nasty concussion all?" Peter figeted before squeaking out a tiny no. "You're going to have to speak up Spiderling, not all of us have super senses."

"No."

"Oh, well, what else?"

"Splinters from the broken crates, sprained ankle, I think I might have twisted my wrist weird at some point as well," Peter muttered. "But I was fine in a couple days! Promise," he added quickly, throwing his hands up in defense, well, he tried to, but upon the sudden jerk of movement of his screwed up shoulder area, black spots danced in his vision as a fire burned his nerves. Peter shut his eyes tight, grabbing his arm so hard his knuckles turned white as he breathed through gritted teeth, trying to ride the wave out, and trying his best not to just pass out. He thought he heard Tony calling his name, but everything died down to a whine.

" 'd, 'eter. Peter, kid? Kid, you alright," what what Peter heard when his hearing finally started being somewhat normal again. He nodded stiffly, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as the pain slowly started ebbing away. He didn't release his grip at all until the pain went back down to how it was before, a more stabbing pain rather than acid burning his nerves.

" 'm okay," Peter mumbled through gritted teeth.

"Jesus kid, you scared me. Don't do that again, just, don't move okay?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Peter said with a laugh, finally releasing his death grip and noticing he left bruises on his skin. Luckily they were already fading.

"Okay, so, injuries in Germany, yes, long term effects, none. That's good. Next time, when you're injured in the slightest, the smallest cut or slight tweak of a muscle, you let me know and I'll make sure FRIDAY does tell me, capisce?"

"Got it, yep, I'll let you know, yes sir Mr. Stark sir," Peter said, nodding his head and saluting with his good arm, dropping his arm to the bed afterwards, a slight smirk on his face as Tony just groaned and rolled his eyes, running a hand over his face.

"This is why I never had kids," Tony muttered to himself, but hearing Peter's snort of amusement caused him to remember that Peter had super hearing. "Bug off squirt."

"Not funny," Peter said, sticking out his tongue at the man who just looked at him.

"Really, what are you, five?" Peter gave a half shrug, because the other shoulder was currently in pain and immobile. "Alright kid, now onto more current matters." Tony saw Peter stiffen and the amused smile fell from his face. "Or not, it can wait if you're not ready. Just, I do want to know what happened when you feel up to it okay?" Peter swallowed and nodded.

"I'm okay."

"Really," Tony said, tone disbelieving and eyebrow raised. Peter rubbed his neck with his hand, looking nervous.

"No," he stammered out. "If I don't though, I won't ever, I don't think." It was Tony's turn to nod. How was this kid simultaneously both more and less mature than him? He was posing quite the conundrum for the billionaire.

"Alright kid, whenever you feel like it." Peter took a breath in and released it slowly.

"Well I suppose I should tell you I asked Liz out to Homecoming," Peter said with a grin.

"I know kid."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's a fact that's been known."

"Okay then," Peter mumbled, looking even more awkward. "Well, I went to her house and rang the doorbell."

"I hope you're getting to the point here."

"Toomes opened the door," Peter blurted out and watched Tony's eyebrows raise in slight shock.

"What? How'd he know you'd be there?"

"He didn't know who I was then."

"Then? Hold up, moving on, we'll have another talk about that later. So how was Toomes at your date's house."

"He's Liz's dad."

"Holy shit," Tony exclaimed.

"Language."

"Shut up FRIDAY."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter relayed everything that happened from the time he was dropped off at Liz's house, all the way up until he collapsed on the rooftop before waking up in the room he was currently in. He took care to not mention how Toomes pulled a gun on him to hold him hostage while they had a little chat in the car before Peter ditched Homecoming. He also chose to leave out a whole building collapsing on top of him, merely stating that he tracked Toomes to a warehouse, seeing the man sitting up on a sign, and flinging a web at the man to follow him. Tony didn't need to know that stuff.

"Wow kid, that's some deep shit you managed to get yourself into." Peter raised an eyebrow at the language, causing Tony to throw his hands up in exclamation, scoffing all the while. "Not you too! They've corrupted you and you weren't even there for when the joke came to be!" Peter snickered, groaning as his ribs were jostled. "Okay kid, hey, take it easy, no more laughing."

"Forgot," Peter gasped out, trying to get his breath back. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing for things kid; it's seriously getting on my nerves."

"Sorry." Tony groaned and Peter just started laughing again, this time ending in a violent coughing fit. Tony froze as Peter sounded like he was hacking up a lung, and sagged in relief when the fit ended, leaving Peter moaning and wheezing. "No laughter, got it, mmm hmm," Peter forced out, teeth gritted, a smile on his lips. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Have you told me everything?"

"Yeah, I think so, why," Peter replied once he got his breath back, hoping that he didn't look too nervous that Tony might have seen through his lies, or omissions really. Tony looked skeptical.

"Oh, no reason. Just the fact that the Doc is pretty sure that the thing that stabbed you, clean through I might I add though it was definitely not clean that's for sure, was a piece of rebar. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think there was any rebar on that plane. So I think that you aren't telling me everything Spiderkid." Peter fidgeted in his spot, looking away from Tony.

"I swear, I'm telling you everything, I don't know what stabbed me, or when really. It's all kind of a blur, or blank space," Peter admitted softly. Tony pursed his lips.

"Which warehouse?"

"What?"

"Which warehouse did you follow Toomes to? I want to head out there and make sure that there isn't anything there that could come back to bite us in the asses."

"Oh you don't have to do that Mr. Stark, really, it's all destroyed."

"What's all destroyed?"

"Anything that was in the warehouse," Peter said truthfully, not saying that the warehouse was also destroyed. Tony humphed before pulling out his phone and sending a text to someone.

"What did you just do?"

"What do you mean Pete?"

"Who'd you just text?"

"Oh, I just texted Happy to track your phone's location to figure out where that warehouse is that you don't want to tell me about," Tony said, waving his phone in the air. He was smirking, but his face fell immediately when he saw Peter go absolutely pale.

"No, no Mr. Stark, it's all fine, don't you trust me? I mean, there's nothing there anymore. Don't worry, I took care of everything, it's no problem, there's no need," Peter stammered, shifting too much for Tony's liking. He walked to the kid and grabbed his shoulders from an awkward angle, forcing the kid to still and look at him.

"Kid, chill, I just want to do a double check, make sure that nothing can be salvaged."

"I doubt that anything could be," Peter muttered softly, causing Tony to be even more concerned.

"If you don't tell me everything right now, and I find out something big that you left out on my own, I will not be very happy, I can tell you right now," Tony said sternly, causing Peter to flinch slightly, but remain silent other than the occasional soft protest about finding the warehouse. The pair sat in silence, waiting for Happy to get back to Tony with the location. Instead of texting back, the man walked in, face grim, with a tablet in his hands.

"Tony," the man said, twitching his head towards the hallway, trying to get Tony to walk away from the kid, probably to show him something. Tony stood and glanced back at Peter as he walked out of the room. The kid looked absolutely terrified, but also guilty. Tony had a bad feeling. Once out of the room, he shut the door, and Happy showed him the blip that was Peter's phone.

"So, as you can see, his phone was on him when he went to his school dance, but then it's seen driving off somewhere. It stopped outside a building for a while, an abandoned warehouse, and that's where it was when the battery died."

"Okay, and?" Happy looked at Tony, face emotionless as he pulled up a satellite view of the building.

"This was taken a little before Peter's phone was parked outside. Recently, another image was captured of the building, well, where the building was."

"What are you saying?"

"There's no more warehouse," Happy said, showing Tony the current picture of where the building stood. It was just a pile of rubble. Tony stared at the screen, looking at Happy before running a hand through his hair.

"The kid really knows how to destroy things doesn't he. I'm still going to check it out, just in case. Stay with the kid will yah? He's a bit freaked out, needs someone there who cares." Happy raised an eyebrow before nodding, walking into the room as Tony called his suit. He had a bad feeling that he wanted so badly to just be his anxiety acting up again. Unfortunately, he really didn't think it was.

Tony left the building, flying towards the warehouse. Said warehouse looked even worse in person that in pictures. Tony landed with a clunk and walked around the sight, careful to not disturb too much.

"Hey FRIDAY, scan for any sort of alien or human tech that's not us."

"All alien and/or human technology is no longer functional or usable. It seems Peter did fully destroy everything." The billionaire was happy that he didn't have to deal with any of that, and he was proud of the kid for getting rid of all the weapons. He turned to leave, but something caught his eye. There was a space around the middle of where the warehouse was. It looked like something was there, but it was currently lying on it's side, discarded, like it was thrown away. Tony walked over to the area and looked down where the rubble had made a hole of sorts. Water trickled down, making puddles, as Tony slowly lowered himself down. A soft 'no' left his lips as he caught sight of a familiar mask. Rushing over, he picked it up, water splashing with the force he used.

The mask was dirtied and torn, dirt, water, and what Tony believed was blood, was all mixed together, darkening the colors. One of the lenses was cracked and the other was no longer functioning at all. There were tears and rip around it and Tony glanced around the space.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes sir?"

"Scan for any sort of blood," Tony said with a grimace, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. FRIDAY seemed to hesitate, a very human reaction, before announcing her findings.

"There are large amounts of human blood in the surrounding area, as well as a piece of rebar coated in it," FRIDAY spoke, sounding like she was feeling pain in a sympathetic way. It was a bit strange. Tony didn't really pay any mind to it because suddenly he felt really sick.

"Jesus Christ the kid had a building dropped on top of him," Tony said in one exhale, spinning around and looking at everything before flying out of the hole and above the scene, surveying it all. "That kid is going to be the death of me," Tony muttered, fear lacing his voice as he took off back towards the Tower, back to Peter.

Upon landing on the pad, the suit was slowly taken from him and shuffled down and away as Tony then rushed towards Peter's room. Opening the door, feeling extremely worried, but also angry, he stormed in, causing the already on-edge teen to jump with a shriek at the sudden and somewhat dramatic entrance. Happy just looked up and pursed his lips in understanding.

"Why didn't you feel the need to tell me that the warehouse itself was destroyed?"

"I kind of did, I mean, I said that it was all destroyed," Peter muttered. Tony scoffed.

"Let me rephrase that. Why didn't you feel the need to tell me that you were inside the warehouse when it was destroyed?" Peter looked extremely guilty, playing with the edge of the blanket that covered his lower half. He stared at his lap, not wanting to look at either man.

"Wait, what," Happy said, not realizing the full extent. He just figured that something wasn't quite at Peter said, not that he was literally in the destroyed building.

"Yeah, Peter here was in that building when it collapsed. Why didn't you tell me?" Peter shrugged.

"No, no a shrug does not help me. Why didn't you feel it necessary to tell me that a building fell on you Pete?! I mean, it was a fucking warehouse! You were buried under a shit ton of concrete and metal! And I'm pretty sure you knew about the rebar, so I ask you again. Why. Did. You. Not. Tell. Me?"

"I thought you'd be mad," Peter said quietly. The broken tone and the way he wouldn't meet Tony's eyes caused all of the anger to fade from Tony's bones.

"Kid, what? You thought I'd be mad?"

"I mean, I destroyed something and nearly got myself killed, just like with the ferry incident, just like when Toomes dropped me in a lake. You seemed mad the last time it happened and I didn't want to make you mad again."

"Peter, a building fell on top of you, it crushed you," Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Peter looked at Tony, confusion and guilt written across his face.

"Yeah. I was stupid and I followed Toomes. He made the wings fly around and knock out the support columns. I should have noticed, but I didn't, I just figured he missed me. I was an idiot who didn't think it through or listen to you and I destroyed something and made an even bigger mess than needed," Peter said as if it made perfect sense. Tony ran a hand over his face, groaning.

"Okay Pete, listen, first of all, I'm not mad. Hell, I'm not even disappointed in you. You made a mistake, everyone does, though not everyone ends up buried alive under a building after, but it happens to the best of us. Secondly, you really need to get it in your head that your life matters to me kid. You can't just rush off and nearly get killed. I'm sorry if I seemed mad or angry with you, and it's because I was, but that was mainly because, well, I was worried about you. You're fifteen, you nearly died three times in the past couple weeks Peter. Three! You should be worried about school, not supervillains and nearly dying every other day. Thirdly, I'm never mad at you, at least not completely. Sure, I get angry when you decide to take things into your own hands and nearly get yourself and a bunch of innocents killed, but when you think back on it, you actually did save them."

"I didn't though. I broke the ferry. I nearly killed hundreds of people."

"I dunno about hundreds, but yeah, nearly. The important thing to realize is you didn't. You noticed your fuck up, you tried to fix it, and when you couldn't, you nearly tore yourself in half trying to hold it together. I was pissed at you for that, I took your suit thinking it might ground you for a while until I could sort the whole mess out, but after finding you on that rooftop, I can't stay angry."

"I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Kid, if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me."

"What? Why?"

"I took the suit. Maybe if you had the suit, you could have called for help, or managed to not be buried, or alerted me to the Vulture's plan to take down the plane. If I hadn't taken the suit, maybe you'd be up and walking around, just fine, instead of stuck in a bed, healing after coming extremely close to dying. Actually, no, you did die a few times, but only for a minute max. Listen, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for taking the suit."

"No, don't be." Now it was Tony's turn to be confused.

"Huh?"

"You said if I'm nothing without the suit, I shouldn't have it. I stopped Toomes, but I nearly got myself killed, I did get myself killed, and I destroyed your plane, and a building, and made a even bigger mess than needed. You should keep the suit, maybe I'll just stick to homework." Tony blinked a few times, not quite sure if he heard the kid right.

"Wait, so you're saying that, even though you most definitely saved countless lives, you think you're nothing without the suit and therefore are no longer going to be Spider-Man?" Peter nodded, a little confused.

"What, I thought you'd be happy," Peter said softly. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"Kid, no, I love that you're Spiderling, I just wish you'd be a bit more, self-preserving or something like that."

"But-"

"Listen, no buts. I took the suit, and I shouldn't have. I also said some things I really shouldn't have and didn't mean; I was just a little bit mad at the time and emotions cloud judgement and make you lose your filter. I was trying to make a point that you were someone outside of the mask just as much as you were inside. I didn't mean to make you quit being Spider-man, I just needed you to chill out until I got Toomes. That didn't really work out so well, but you're alive, he's alive, everything is secured and at the upstate facility, and you saved who knows how many people by taking down Toomes. I count that as a win."

"I caused more trouble than it's worth…"

"Listen Peter, I've caused more than enough trouble in my day. Thing is, it never helped anyone, not even myself. So when I say that your trouble trumps my trouble any day, I am not lying. You're a good kid Peter, a brilliant, idiotic, teenage superhero who saves lives before thinking about his own. I want you to keep being Spider-man. I know how much it means to you. Plus, I've been tinkering with the suit, and toying with some ideas for upgrades so if you quit, all that is kind of useless." Peter perked up at the thought of upgrades.

"Can I help," he asked timidly and Tony chuckled.

"Of course little Spider."

"Awesome."

"When you're perfectly healed and healthy."

"Not awesome."


	6. Chapter 6

Luckily for Peter, he heals fast, so within a couple weeks, he was bouncing off the walls and driving Tony insane. Somehow, in the span of the two days since he had been declared fully healed, he had managed to cover every surface in the room in webbing, blow up the lab not once, but twice, and cause all of the Iron Man suits to fire up and rebel against Tony (though no one was harmed, just some scattered armor pieces here and there from when the suits crashed into each other or a wall). Tony was going crazy dealing with Peter and, he hated himself for thinking this but, he really wished the kid would just leave already and let Tony tinker in peace. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to be happening, and after what had happened the week after Peter was said to be fully healed, Tony had never been happier that genies weren't real.

It was a normal day, wake up, drink coffee, go to the lab, eat something, drink more coffee, drink liquor, tinker more, pass out for two hours, wake up, wash, rinse, repeat. It wasn't healthy, but after having to deal with a hyperactive teenager who had been bedridden for a few weeks, he was dead on his feet and that was how he coped.

Around six in the morning, as Tony was grabbing his nth cup of coffee, Peter comes trudging into the kitchen. Tony was all ready to make some sort of smartass remark, smirk on his face, when his joking mood fell away as fast as his smile turned to an expression of concern. Dark bags were seated under Peter's eyes, his skin pale, and his eyes themselves were dark and dulled from pain.

"Pete, you okay?" Peter looked slightly startled at seeing Tony, but quickly recovered, throwing on a smile that, if Tony hadn't seen what Peter looked like originally, he just might have believed the facade and that shook him to his core. Were there times when he had thought Peter was alright, but in reality, he was struggling? Times he never noticed the broken kid as he made jokes about said kid's inability to lie proficiently? Tony wasn't sure, and it unnerved him.

"Yeah, of course. Why are you here?"

"In my kitchen?" Peter rubbed at his eyes tiredly before shrugging and sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He crossed his arms on the counter and rested his chin against them, still watching Tony get his coffee. He expected the man to leave him to his own devices after grabbing the cup, but instead, Tony merely stood opposite Peter, the mug on the counter, the two having a staredown of sorts.

"What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you, up, at six, in the morning, on a Saturday. That's not a normal teen thing."

"I'm an early riser, what can I say," Peter replied with a smirk on his face, stretching his arms above his head, back cracking with the motion. Sighing, Peter began swinging back and forth on the chair, allowing it to swivel one way and then the other so he could still pay attention to Tony, but try to keep himself awake.

"You have bags under your eyes as dark as Natasha's suit."

"That's a weird analogy, but okay?"

"First thing that popped into my mind, but seriously. Are you sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"For a proper amount of hours?"

"Maybe?"

"That wasn't an answer." Peter stopped his movement and looked Tony directly in the eyes.

"I'm sleeping fine, I feel fine, I'm all healed, healthy, and ready to escape back into the world. What more do you want?"

"FRIDAY, how is Peter's sleep schedule," Tony asked the AI, causing Peter to look betrayed and slightly afraid.

"Peter has been sleeping for an average of two hours each night."

"Why exactly is that FRIDAY?"

"Don't answer him FRIDAY," Peter called out.

"I apologize Peter, but due to my programing, any question that Mr. Stark asks, I must answer. It appears that Peter has been suffering from nightmares, often awakening in a very distraught manner."

"Why was I not informed of this?"

"I was told not to," came the reply. Tony scoffed and looked at Peter, who looked, of all things, ashamed, which caused Tony to frown.

"Thank you FRIDAY."

"A pleasure as always." Tony leaned on the counter in order to get a bit closer to Peter, who was looking anywhere but at the billionaire.

"Nightmares huh?" Peter gulped and nodded.

"Why didn't you want me to know kid? It's not anything to be ashamed of. You went through a traumatic experience; it's bound to give you nightmares. Hell, it'd give me nightmares. I mean, you fought a man dressed like a giant, robotic, demon bird, who tried to kill you multiple times, and who dropped a building on you. That and how badly you were injured are bound to make you a bit off. I just can't believe I didn't notice something sooner."

"I'm a better liar than people give me credit for," Peter replied with a smile, trying to insert some humor, but it fell flat and only seemed to make the situation worse if Tony's frown deepening was any indication.

"I need you to promise me a few things."

"What?"

"Do you want to keep being Spider-man?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I need you to promise me a few things or no more Spidey."

"What?! You can't do that."

"They're just minor things, don't worry. It's mostly for my benefit."

"Fine, whatever."

"Well, first of all, I need you to promise to tell me when you're hurting, physically, mentally, emotionally, anything that doesn't feel right, I want you to talk to me. Secondly, promise to keep me in the loop of any future villain incidents. I wasn't following you close enough, and I took the suit away, and you got hurt, so promise to make sure I know what's going on."

"Okay, yeah, sure, I promise. Anything else?"

"Finally, you need to stop lying to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I need you to drop the mask, at least around me. I know that mask of indifference you're wearing right now, the annoyed one, and the happy one you plastered on once you saw me here, are just that, masks. I want you to promise to at least try to put them away and let me see you're face."

Peter blinked a few times, a bit shocked at the final request. It seemed simple enough, stop pretending. Thing was, it's a hell of a lot harder to drop something that you feel protects you. Peter had been wearing masks for years, gaining newer ones, better ones, as the years progressed. When he became Spidey, the masks tripled. They were always improving and the problem with that is Peter wasn't sure if they could come off anymore.

"I don't know if I can."

"Come on Peter, you can be yourself around me. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, of course I do Mr. Stark, it's just that-"

"Then why can't you let me see what you're really feeling?"

"I don't know if that's possible."

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't know if I can take them off," Peter responded quietly.

"What?"

"I don't know if they come off anymore. There's always another beneath, and I don't know where it ends."

"How long have you been hiding?"

"I dunno."

"Peter, to be stuck like you seem to be, it had to have been years."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I was never a popular kid," Peter said softly and Tony knew then and there that his mouth should stay closed while Peter told him about himself. It was something, the kid opening up to Tony, and the billionaire took it as a step in the right direction.

"Even when I was little, I was always the weird one. I was the one with the dead parents, the one who was a nerd, who liked science and math, who was smarter than most of the other kids. I was the outsider. Michelle and Ned are my only friends, and even them I didn't become friends with a for a while. I had to learn how to act like I was fine, like I could handle the insults thrown my way. I wasn't very good at first, but eventually bruises and scrapes happened because of falls or running into walls. Unfortunately, this just led to the whole me-being-clumsy thing that's still around. I am clumsy, but not run-face-first-into-a-wall-and-end-up-with-a-broken-nose clumsy. Things got worse through elementary and middle school. Then high school rolls around, I have Ned and occasionally Michelle, but that's it. I had gotten pretty good at covering up most injuries I got from 'being clumsy' with a mask and makeup. Then I got bit by the spider and then Ben died and things got worse, but I got better at hiding. I guess I just don't notice anymore, a mask slipping on or off, switching out with another."

"Damn kid, that long?"

"I guess. I never actually told anyone about any of that, not even May or Ben. Why am I telling you this?"

"I don't have a clue, but I'm glad you did. I'm always here for you Peter, you can always talk to me."

"Thanks."

"Now let's talk about those nightmares." Peter froze and rubbed his arm nervously.

"Why?"

"Because they are impeding your ability to sleep, that, and I want to know what's happening in that brain of yours."

"It's stupid."

"I can guarentee it is not."

"No you can't."

"Yeah I can."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

"I'm going to lose this aren't I?"

"Yep," Tony replied, popping the P. Peter sighed.

"Fine."

"Alright, start with what you remember." Peter's face changes as he flashes back and Tony shifts his stance, both physical and emotional, just in case Peter gets stuck in the nightmare.

"I'm buried and everything hurts. It's cold, dark, and it's hard to breathe. I would call for help, but it's barely a whisper. I would try getting out, pushing the building off of me, but I can't, I'm too weak. I can't get out and I start to panic and then I hear the clinking of metal on concrete and green eyes stare at me and I can see the metal coming for me, but then I wake up." Tony had moved to Peter's side, an arm draped over his shoulders, holding him close. He wasn't one to show affection, but the kid had kind of broke. Peter had tears in his eyes, a few running down his cheeks, and a worn, beaten-down look on his face, his eyes looking like they should belong to a soldier who has seen many tours in the worst conditions. Truthfully, the kid kind of had fought a war, and survived.

"Hey, Pete, hey, it's okay, just let it out." Somehow, those words happened to shatter Peter's resolve and he broke down sobbing, grasping Tony tightly as the man hugged him close. It felt like hours before Peter's sobs turned to hiccups and he slowly calmed down. Tony sat in a stool next to Peter, who sniffed and wiped at his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears.

"Sometimes you're there."

"What?"

"In the nightmares. Sometimes you're there, and you're calling for me, but I can't call out and then I hear you leave and I know you would never do that, but it seems so real."

"Kid, everyone has nightmares, especially about people who they know or are close to abandoning them or getting hurt because of them," Tony said, his face giving away the fact that he is talking from experience.

"Even you?"

"Especially me. After the New York incident, I was a mess. Hell, I still have nightmares to this day about it. Before that it was Afghanistan, and before that it was of my parent's deaths. Nightmares are something everyone gets and they are nothing to be ashamed of. It's the brain's way of trying to get you over something, or trying to make sense of something. It's completely natural, and all because the brain couldn't process something properly or needs some time to process it.

"Well, then the brain is an asshole."

"Indeed it is."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all. Long time, no see. Life’s been a bitch, and if I’m being completely honest with everyone I lost concentration on writing this story, and it just sort of faded from my attention. I was reading back through because it had been so long, and if I’m being completely honest, I felt like it sort of ended in a way I was okay with, but at the same time, I wanted to read a bit more, so here’s that. I was super focused on this story, and then I watched another thing and got super into that and so on and so forth until Infinity War happened and it hurt me emotionally. I needed to vent, and it got me re-obsessed with the characters and all that, so yeah. Sorry I’ve been away for so long, and this may or may not be the last chapter depending on how I feel about it.

Peter jolted awake, a scream barely held back, shirt and sweats soaked with sweat. Eyes darting around fearfully, heart pounding violently, Peter slowly regained full consciousness and eventually managed to rein in his anxiety to a manageable level. Still shaking slightly, he glanced at the clock and groaned in annoyance when he realized it was only two in the morning. Flopping back, he stared at the ceiling, hands twitching from residual adrenaline.

After about ten minutes of angrily glaring at the ceiling, Peter sat back up and stood, feet padding near-silently on the floor. He wandered to his window and opened it, sighing in relief as the cool breeze gently ruffled his hair. His room was so stuffy it felt suffocation. Mentally promising his aunt that he’d be careful, Peter slipped out his window, closing it gently, and crawled up to the roof, sitting on the edge, staring at the city lights twinkling.

It had been a few weeks since he was allowed to leave the tower, his aunt scolding him for being away doing who knows what for so long. He hadn’t the heart to tell her anything about his activities, so he plastered on a grin and apologized in a light-hearted manner, though his heart was straining with a new found fear of losing everything. Of course Peter was afraid of losing people he cared about, he’d spent most of his life dealing with losing people, but now it was really hard to not imagine his aunt dead, Toomes or some other villain standing over her with a sick grin. His nightmares were filled with him either still trapped under the building, people who could help just out of reach, or with him watching as everyone he cared about was killed because of him. Usually it was May or Tony, both of which, in his nightmare-addled mind, yelled it was all his fault. His panic usually woke him up after that, like tonight.

Closing his eyes and listening to the bustle of the city, even at two in the morning, Peter tried to get the images out of his mind, but every time he’d start getting somewhere, his mind would shoot right back and he’d have to start all over. Opening his eyes and mumbling softly in frustration, Peter clenched his fists and twisted himself around so he could stand on the roof. Pacing back and forth, Peter kept clenching and unclenching his fists until he screamed in frustration, cursing himself afterwards because it was kind of loud. Freezing, he stayed silent, not breathing, for what felt like hours until he finally deemed it safe, with people apparently not having heard his annoyed shout. At least he thought no one would bother him because all of a sudden, the sound of repulsors hit his ears and a familiar clink of metal on stone caused him to spin around.

Mind flying through possible escape routes, Peter took way too long to process the fact that it was just Tony and not some evil birdman coming to kill him. His mind was still not fully functioning, and his instincts caused him to end up in a stance that screamed fight-or-flight.

“Woah kid, chill out, it’s just me,” Tony said, stepping out of his suit, hands out in surrender, eyes shining with slight worry in the glow of the city. Peter slowly brought himself out of his stance and stood sheepishly, hand rubbing the opposite arm. “FRIDAY alerted me that you were awake and left your room. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Tony had made his way closer to Peter, who now made his way back to sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the edge, kicking softly.

“I’m okay Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” As per their previous agreement, Tony had made it so that whenever Peter woke up in the middle of the night, or woke up in some state of distress, Karen would alert FRIDAY, who’d relay the info to Tony, who in turn would decide the course of action he’d take. The amount of times Tony has had to intervene was fairly few, this being one of the few.

“I did have to come all the way here because I wanted to make sure you weren’t out galavanting around being Spider-kid in a bad state of mind. Can I sit?” Tony asked, gesturing to the space beside the teen. Peter nodded, not meeting Tony’s eyes, and the billionaire sat, facing the opposite way. He still wasn’t quite over the whole “falling from the sky” deal and liked having something solid beneath his feet, including his armor.

“It was just a nightmare, nothing I can’t handle. You can go home now, I’m fine,” Peter said, still not meeting Tony’s eyes. Eyebrows furrowing in concern, Tony huffed.

“I’ll leave if you can look me in the eyes and say, without a doubt, that you are perfectly alright and not going to pace until the sun comes up.” Tony watched as Peter shifted uncomfortably before looking up to meet the billionaire’s eyes.

“I’m fine Tony, you can leave,” Peter said before looking back out over the city. Tony started slightly, having to take a second to process what just happened.

“Okay kid, I know you aren’t fine because suddenly, we’re on a first name basis, and secondly, you do not look fine. Hell kid, you look like death. Are you even getting enough sleep? I should be alerted if you’re not so what’s up?” Peter seemed to shrink down a little, eyes going to look at his still sort-of shaking hands in his lap. Clenching his hands into fists again in a hope of relieving some of the shakiness, he swallowed harshly.

“I may have hacked Karen to not always alert you, but only because I didn’t want to bother you,” Peter finished in a hurry, hands thrown up in surrender as he took note of Tony’s stiffened frame. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the man sighed exasperatedly and looked the teen in the eyes. Peter’s eyes were dull and darting around, seemingly looking for an escape route. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, almost as bad as Tony’s after the Battle of New York with him not sleeping properly for weeks. Under the moonlight, and from the faint glow from the city, the kid looked sickly. Tony shook his head out of frustration at the kid for the fact that he still feels like he’s being bothersome.

“Kid, the whole reason that I made it so Karen alerts me was because I wanted to be bothered. I thought you promised me that you’d drop the masks and stop lying to me? I can tell you’re not okay, but I don’t know what’s bothering you if you won’t tell me.” Peter’s eyes finally met Tony’s, and the man’s heart broke seeing how weary and frightened they looked. “Kid,” Tony said softly, the teen’s eyes darting away yet again, this time back to looking at his hands.

“I keep having nightmares.”

“Like the one you told me about? The one where you’re still trapped?” Peter nodded, not looking up.

“Yeah, and about everyone I care about dying because of me. It’s like it’s playing on repeat, the same thing over and over and over. It’s either Toomes or some other person standing over May, or Ben, or my par-....my parents, or you, and I can’t move to stop the person and they just, they just kill them, kill you. I’ve dealt with losing people I care about, not fully, but I know what it feels like, and for some reason, I can’t handle a stupid nightmare,” Peter said, teeth gritted in anger, hands coiled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white.

“Kid, Peter, listen. Just because you’ve dealt with tragedy before, doesn’t mean that it’s something you’ll ever be able to fully deal with. Dealing with someone you care about dying takes more than a couple years to get over, sometimes you can go your whole life without being able to fully heal from the loss. Hell, I still miss my parents and get nightmares about them dying too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, or angry at yourself about. Fearing that the people you love will die because of you is an all too real reality of people in my line of work, our line of work. I wish I could say something more optimistic like, ‘it’ll be fine, it gets better’, but to be completely honest, all that’s utter bullshit.” Peter’s lips twitched slightly and Tony took it as a win.

“I just, I don’t feel like I’m getting better, like I’ll ever get any better. I keep waking up from nightmares and I can’t breathe. Do you know how many times I’ve almost leapt out the window and ran because I felt like I was trapped? I know I promised not to lie to you and I’m sorry I lied.”

“Pete, it’s fine. I understand why you lied, but let me tell you: nightmares don’t make you weak. Fear doesn’t make you weak. It all just makes you human. It shows that you have a heart, that you care with every fiber of your being about the people you love, and that you’ll protect them from anything. It’s not that you’re not getting better, it’s that you are getting better. By noticing all of this, but acknowledging what you’re afraid of, by talking with someone about it all, that’s you knowing that you want to get better, and in turn, you are. Even if it doesn’t feel like you’re making progress, I bet you are, you just haven’t noticed yet. Now, can you make me another promise? Let me know if you ever need help. I’m always here for you, okay kid?”

Tony watched as Peter slowly uncurled his fists, shoulders sagging, almost in defeat, but to Tony, it was merely a sign that the tension the kid held was finally fading slightly. Peter gave a nod, a small, barely noticeable one, but still a nod and Tony smiled softly. Placing a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder, the teen looked at him, the panic gone from his eyes, leaving only a tired, dull look in its place. Peter turned around to face the way Tony was and leaned into the billionaire’s touch until his body was leaning against the man, head resting on his shoulder. Tony draped his arm around Peter in a half-hug as Peter’s breaths seemed to even out slightly, like the kid was finally drifting off.

“Hey Tony?”

“Yeah kid?”

“I think I need help.” Tony sighed, hugging Peter closer, rubbing the boy’s arm in a comforting gesture.

“I know Pete, I know.”

“Thank you.” Tony stopped moving and looked at Peter, mouth open to ask why, but froze when he took note of how Peter was apparently no longer in the land of the conscious, having drifted back off into sleep. A small smile gracing his lips, Tony shook his head, afraid to move in case he’d wake Peter up.

“Anything for you kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not jumping for joy over how this chapter was, but to be completely honest, as in the note at the beginning of this chapter, I felt like it sort of ended the last chapter. This chapter here, well, let me know if you're mad at me because of it, but it does conclude this story. If wanted, I could do some short little one-shot snippets of other times when struggles are real and all that, or addressing the length of time masks were in place a little more in depth, but posted separate from this story, connected through a series or something. Let me know if this chapter just made all of you mad, but I hopefully ended in an okay way.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone, it's been real.


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